


Man or Con - to be or not to be

by KeJae, Quinis



Category: Chuck (TV), White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-10-30 03:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeJae/pseuds/KeJae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinis/pseuds/Quinis
Summary: “Neal, if ever you do decide to grow up, you should realize this one thing. You can either be a con or a man. You can't be both.” Co-authorship with Quinis as Bryce/Neal and I as Peter.





	1. Chapter One

WCWCKEJAEWCWC

_"_ _Neal, if ever you do decide to grow up, you should realize this one thing. You can either be a con or a man. You can't be both."_

When I said that, Neal and I were conversing about role models like Ford versus Byron. I felt Neal should follow Byron by leaving crime behind to have a family and friends. To my dismay, Neal seemed to be leaning towards Ford's influence with his comment about running cons being "More fun than sitting in a cubicle."

His reaction encouraged my opinion that I was talking to a con who was still having too much fun to grow up. Since then, he has been teaching me how little I knew. In fact, he has shown so many little details that I have come to suspect two things: he is more grown up than I have been led to think, and he is a greater con than I ever dreamed.

Discovering the truth of my partner and friend has been an interesting adventure.

WCWCWCWC

We had just finished working a case when I noticed Neal staying late. He wasn't doing anything officially assigned to him, but he seemed to be hard at work. There were several papers strewn across his desk and his focus was on the computer screen. In fact, he was so focused I managed to walk up and look over his shoulder.

For several minutes I simply read the information on his screen and the papers. Apparently, he was researching a company and looking into a teen runaway's witness statement. The local police had questioned the kid, done preliminary investigations, and decided the kid's statement wasn't verifiable. Somehow, Neal had ended up with the information and he was giving the case another look over from his perspective.

When he noticed I was standing behind him, Neal jumped. "Peter! How long have you been standing there?" He seemed something between suspicious of my presence and annoyed I had caught him off guard.

"I just noticed you working late. What is this, it isn't an official case."

Suddenly, the information didn't seem as important so he quickly moved to sort it back into the file and close the screens. "Nothing, I was just giving a friend a favor. She's sure she has a case but the cops who investigated don't. Don't worry about it." Then he was off distracting me with chatter about it being late and how Elizabeth would be waiting for me to get home.

He led the way out of the office, we rode the elevator to the lobby, and I followed him out onto the street. When I offered him a lift home he declined saying he needed the stretch. Then Neal said good night and started walking down the street towards his home while I went to my car. As I drove away, I'm pretty sure I saw him head back inside to continue working.

Two days later I went to work early. I had been by to pick Neal up but June informed me he had already headed to the office. Curious, I decided to see if I could catch him off guard again for some more information.

Getting off of the elevator, I heard voices down the hall in one of the side conference rooms. Following the sounds, I snuck up to the corner and eavesdropped on the conversation. Neal was busy giving an officer a case presentation with evidence and quoting laws like an experienced agent. He was so efficient, the officer reopened the case and agreed to send a task force in to take care of the situation. With the conversation drawing to a close, I took a peek at who he was conversing with before sneaking back down the hall. Taking the elevator down, I decided to go get a coffee before reentering the office.

For two months I watched Neal. He continued to push the case and even when he ran into dead ends he worked hard to ensure the case was solved.

Then I saw a newspaper article depicting the officer as a hero. According to it, he had worked diligently on a case for two months before it exploded into an international scale operation that saved thousands of lives. I knew the truth. Neal was the real hero who had saved those lives and he was the force behind the case being solved… and he never said a word.

WCWCQUINISWCWC

I couldn't help the smile which came to my face as I read the article. Two months of work. Two months of frustrating dead ends, of enlightening breakthroughs and dodging Peter and the curious eyes of the FBI.

It wasn't difficult to set someone else up to be the hero, the officer in question was a good guy and he was the one who ultimately presented the case and put everything in motion. All on nothing more than my word. If I had been wrong, although that was highly unlikely, then his career and life would have been destroyed.

He trusted me and that trust paid off. Thousands of lives saved. A hero officer.

I looked up and spotted Peter looking at me from his office. My grin grew wider, just to mess with him. Internally, I worried. Peter had been looking at me a lot lately. Did he suspect me of doing something wrong?

Technically, I had just pulled a con. However, it wasn't anything Peter could use against me. No one would have any reason to suspect that Neal Caffrey, a convicted criminal, would have anything to do with the heroic actions of an officer.

WCWCWCWC

The day's end came slower than I would have liked. With no case to distract me, I was stuck doing paperwork and waiting for a case or a mission or something. I wanted a puzzle to wrap my mind around.

"What's on your mind?" Peter asked as he drove me back to June's.

I guess it wasn't all bad. Now that the case was over, I could go home at five instead of heading back to the office to work.

"The blind spots of the cameras in the office," I responded. It was true. That's how bored I was without a challenge. Not that Mozzie would mind. He would love the information.

"Oh."

I raised my eyebrows in response.

"Okay. What answer were you looking for?" I asked in a pleasant tone.

Peter shook his head and told me it was nothing. I frowned in a completely unconvinced way.

Finally, Peter responded. He did so in the careful, dull way that suggested that he was thinking carefully about every word.

"I was wondering what you thought of that story, the one about the hero officer."

That had not been what I expected.

"He did a good job."

Peter gave me a curious look and I wondered what that was about. Thankfully, I was saved from whatever that looked meant when Peter pulled up in front of June's. After thanking Peter for the lift, I ducked inside.

June welcomed me with open arms.

"I read the paper. Well done, Neal," she said to me. I gave her a happy smirk.

"Which part? Figuring it all out or arranging for someone else to take the spotlight?"

"Well, you did miss out on the fun part," she said.

"Which part is that? I figured out how they did it."

"I always thought the part where you slap cuffs on the guy was the best part," she said to me with a wink.

I didn't know much about June's time with whichever organisation she had worked for in the past however, I knew she had been a legend. The little she had let slip told me enough and she wasn't going to tell me as, in her words, 'it's good practice'.

I've got her codename narrowed down to a few options. It's just a matter of being patient, gathering more information and eliminating options.

Actually, with the case done, I could do more work on that little puzzle.

WCWCWCWC

Bounding up the stairs, I entered the apartment which was beginning to feel like 'home'. I went into the closet and pulled on my jogging clothes and shoes. They were the only things of mine and not Byron's which occupied space in this walk-in wardrobe.

After tussling my hair so it stuck out and wasn't the 'every hair in place' style of Neal Caffrey, I snuck out the back way and started to jog around the streets.

I checked for a dead-drop marker, a star sticker slapped onto the side of a crosswalk button. Nothing, although the outline of the last one was still there.

The light changed and I started across, only to be stopped by someone grabbing my arm.

"Bryce?"

I turned. I admit, I really shouldn't have and it was a rookie mistake, however, the voice was familiar.

"Sorry?" I questioned. I got punched for playing dumb.

WCWCKEJAEWCWC

After I dropped Neal off at June's, I drove towards home trying to figure Neal out.

He seemed to be genuinely happy with another man getting credit for his actions, but it didn't make sense for a couple of reasons. First, Neal loves attention and likes to take credit for his accomplishments as long as it won't land him in jail. Second, based on how frustrated and determined he was when presenting the case to the officer I wouldn't say he liked the man too well. Finally, the biggest reason this baffled me was that Neal's heroism could be used as leverage to lessen his sentence.

The big mystery was why Neal wasn't even trying to be free again. Ever since Neal originally proposed the deal as a means of looking for Kate, I always thought he would leave the moment he got an opportunity. Was I wrong or is there something I missed?

On impulse, I took a detour.

My new destination was the runaway shelter that was the source of the whole case. Maybe I could discover something there that would help me make sense of this.

Walking into the shelter, I found my attention claimed by a large mural stretched over the entire back wall of the first room. Looking at it in general, I noticed the majority of it focused on a secret garden filled with tranquil spaces while the edge marked the entry from the struggles of life in the world at large. Taking in the details, I looked for the NC characteristic of Neal's signature.

While I was walking along the wall searching, the manager for the shelter approached me. "It's a beautiful work, isn't it? Mr. Neal painted it as a representation for guests that this place is a safe haven where they can escape from their troubles."

Turning around, I answered the man. "It is beautiful. Neal, you say? I figured it was one of his but I can't find his signature."

Taking a closer look at me he added. "I believe you would be his friend, Peter. He said you might eventually figure out he was coming here and have questions." Extending his hand he introduced himself. "My name is John. Would you like a tour?"

That surprised me. I had expected to have to come up with a story or perhaps flash my badge. Instead, John gave me a tour of the place and explained what Neal did when he was able to volunteer.

After the tour, I shook his hand and thanked him for his help.

Driving home, I had another piece to the puzzle. Apparently, Neal paints murals and pictures to decorate the place, draws caricatures to amuse the kids, and provides a listening ear when they have trouble. That explained how he has a friend who is a teen runaway and how he got involved in the case, but it still leaves me with a lot of questions.

When I got home, Elizabeth was waiting for me. We settled in for dinner and talked about our days.

She filled me in on her latest event plans and then past the conversation to me. "What has Neal done now?" When I looked up at her she pointed to the middle of my eyes. "You've had that 'Neal did something' thinking expression all evening so spill."

Smiling at how well my wife could read me, I started at the beginning and filled her in on everything I had learned. "It's not that Neal is getting into trouble, but he has been keeping all of these secrets that don't need to be secret. What is going on with that, and if he is keeping those secrets, what else could he be hiding?"

Laying down her fork, Elizabeth focused on me. "Perhaps it is because it is personal for him. He didn't show up on record until he was eighteen and then he was alone on the streets. Maybe he is trying to help people in a way he wished someone was there for him when he was a teen?"

That was a new perspective. I had been so focused on the adult con that I missed the personal aspect that could be behind his actions.

Since Neal likes to have his secrets, I would have to keep an eye on him if I wanted to know what other things he might be hiding. With that in mind, El helped me to make plans for monitoring him on a different level


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

WCWCQUINISWCWC

I pressed the ice pack to my nose and suppressed a whimper. There was a trail of blood down the front of my shirt which had caused a few people to stop and stare as I had walked back to June's.

June had made a horrible gasp when she opened the door, making me feel that maybe I looked worse than I felt. However, with burning eyes, tears on my face and a stinging and bleeding nose, I felt pretty bad. Getting punched in the nose was not what I had been expecting.

"Stubith," I muttered to myself. My voice sounded funny and I didn't like it. How was I supposed to explain this to Peter?

Oh, yeah, I just got punched in the face by a spy or whatever you call someone who engages in espionage in and for his home country.

That would go over well. And there was no reason for Morgan to punch me.

I groaned and placed my head on the table. I had been punched by Morgan. Morgan Grimes. Of all the people in the world!

"Bewwy stubith," I groaned.

"Can you blame me?" Morgan asked, walking out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist. I glared. The bearded one looked too pleased with himself as he admired his handiwork on my face. "You're supposed to be dead! Chuck watched you die, you… you… bad friend! Very bad friend!"

"I'b dot a don," I grumbled back.

"What?" Morgan questioned, waving his hand flippantly. He walked around the apartment, checking everything out. He ran his hand along the books on the bookshelf and the towel slipped.

"Boot sobm clothz on," I scolded.

"Hey, maybe I'll try sunbathing naked on the balcony. They do that in New York, don't they?"

Morgan was definitely doing this on purpose. He was trying to drive me crazy. I pulled out the gun I had slipped out of its hiding place in June's hallway; because I couldn't keep any weapons in my apartment where the FBI could find them.

"Get dressed," I said flatly, internally cheering as my voice sounded somewhat normal.

"You're even worse fun than when you're trying to whoo Chuck's girls."

I bit my lip and tried not to lose myself in anger.

"Why are you in New York anyway?" I asked, making sure to pronounce each word properly.

What I meant was; why are you bothering me?

"Well, I've always wanted to come to New York. See the sights, be a tourist, collect comics I wouldn't be able to find in Burbank and maybe even try the oyster bar I keep hearing about online. But, anyway, to make a long story short, I was kidnapped and brought here."

'Brought or dumped?' I wondered.

"I'm going to need the whole story, I think."

Morgan had been taken while on a mission. His kidnappers had locked him in the back of their car which, while they had been making the deal with 'Agent Carmichael and crew', was carjacked. The carjackers drove the thing to the airport, where they exchanged it with some guy for cash and discovered Morgan's presence in the back. So they didn't get busted by him calling the police too soon, they brought Morgan with them to New York using their spare ticket, which they had bought to hide that they were travelling in a pair. They had been planning to give it to some stranger, no one would say no to first class, but decided that Morgan would suit their purposes just fine.

"They said it was a free trip and so I could relax until someone came to pick me up."

"That… all happened, right?" I questioned, completely baffled. That was not what I had been expecting. "You're not making it up?"

"Of course it happened, man! And, might I just say, first class will never stop being awesome."

"Have you at least called Chuck?"

"Of course! I borrowed Lady June's phone! Chuck is mad I waited so long to call but, hey, he's coming here to pick me up."

"Here?" As in the house where Neal's visitors could be subjected to FBI searches at random? Maybe he was overreacting a bit but, "why here? Why couldn't you meet him at the oyster bar or something?"

"Because I mentioned the Lady June! Caused Chuck to flash on awesome stuff and he's flying out with Sarah and Casey to meet her!"

I touched my stinging nose and wondered if avoiding Chuck was an option.

WCWCKEJAEWCWC

When Neal slid into my car I knew something was going on. His nose had a bandage on it and there was bruising all around his face radiating from the nasal region. Then the look on his face was something like a relieved scowl.

"What happened Neal?" I hoped he would open up and give me something as this could be very serious.

"Nothing serious." When I refused to let the subject drop he carried on further. "You know how you and Mozzie don't exactly get along? I have an old friend from back in my school days with his own little friend who has never liked me. When I went for a run yesterday I accidentally crossed paths with the little gnome and to prove he still doesn't like me, he punched me. Then as if that wasn't enough, he followed me home and borrowed my shower. The little man has always had a penchant for being annoying so he decided to walk around my apartment and get into everything while wearing nothing but a towel… until the towel fell off." Covering his face I could see he was more annoyed than threatened.

That was a picture that explained the scowl and the relieved expression. I couldn't help but chuckle a little bit because apparently, I had it easy with Mozzie.

"Laugh it up, Peter. Don't forget though, Mozzie lives here and I could give him a few ideas."

Sobering, I glared at Neal. "You wouldn't. If he tried something like that at my place I would arrest him for indecent exposure!"

Neal didn't respond to any of my other inquiries as he chose to simply glare out the window. After a while, I decided to give up for the moment and see what I could observe.

Picking Neal up for work was just the beginning of my long day.

WCWCWCWC

When we walked into the office Neal started coming up with random stories for each member of the office. One story was that he was flirting with a beautiful woman when her boyfriend walked up behind him, another person got a tale about a bar fight to protect a damsel in distress, another got a heroic tale about breaking up a mugging, and so on. I think he told me the true story but I couldn't verify it either so I decided to be especially watchful of his tracking information until the threat seemed to have passed.

Then during the team meeting, Neal got a call and excused himself to answer it. When he came back he was particularly distracted as he kept squeezing his rubber band ball like he was trying to release some stress.

Once he went back to his desk, I noticed he was frequently missing or checking his phone instead of working his way through the pile of cases that had been assigned to him.

Eventually, I drug him off to lunch and tried to get more information out of him. "Is this 'gnome' person still around?"

Startled, he didn't seem to expect me to guess that quickly. "Yeah. He works with a freelance group of private contractors and a job went south with him being forced into a trunk which was then carjacked. Long story short, he ended up in the city with nothing but the clothes on his back so he has been staying at my place until his friends can come to get him. Today, June has been keeping him entertained by taking him to all of the tourist places like he has always wanted to do, but the little guy continuously feels the need to text or call to tell me about places I have already been to, or to simply inform me of how much closer his friends are to arriving… which is actually helpful because I plan to avoid them." He picked at his food but he didn't eat much.

Despite my efforts to get him to say more he managed to avoid giving me any real details.

Finally, when we went back to the office we were assigned to a stakeout for the rest of the workday. That meant I got a front row seat for his guest annoying him but he was good at keeping me from learning anything. Unfortunately, that meant I had a boring afternoon watching an empty building, a puzzling time trying to put nothing into something, and I also got to be confined with a very frustrated Neal Caffrey.

WCWCQUINISWCWC

Stakeouts could be the worst part of the job or the best, depending on one's circumstances.

My current circumstances placed it somewhere around the middle. I wanted to be away from Peter and his curious looks but I was also aware of how work was currently my only buffer against Morgan and his desire to invade my life.

No wonder Chuck decided to go to Stanford, he was probably trying to get away from the limpet.

"You're mean when you're in pain," Peter observed. I gave him my best confused look and he explained, "you're muttering 'little limpet' under your breath when you check your phone. The 'gnome' person is still sending you messages?"

"Hmm," I responded, nodding. Wow, Morgan must really be bothering me for it to break through the Neal facade.

My phone beeped and my hand clenched around it tightly as if I was trying to crush it.

"You better get that," Peter chuckled, picking up a pair of binoculars from the seat behind him and looking over at the building. "Huh, looks like our empty building is not so empty."

"What?" I asked, wondering if something was finally going to happen to end the stakeout.

Peter pointed at the screen, moving so I could have a look. The camera was focused straight across at the building. The guy looking through the window sure looked familiar…

My heart plummeted, my body going cold as I realised who I was looking at. No, it wasn't Mozzie, although the height was similar. The dark hair and well-groomed beard belonged to another.

Morgan Grimes.

"You know him?" Peter questioned and I realised I had growled 'Grimes' under my breath. Great, I was channelling Casey.

"Yeah. He's not a part of this." Peter gave me a raised eyebrow and I felt compelled to explain. "He arrived in the city recently, certainly not long enough ago to have any part in this. Chances are he just stumbled onto this and decided to investigate."

"How would an ordinary citizen," and Peter certainly didn't sound like he believed that one, "just stumble onto a crime and decide to investigate."

"I never said that he was ordinary," I responded, trying to keep to the truth. "Morgan's a little… different? The guy works in a Buy More," and I saw Peter's eyes twitch in realisation so maybe Buy Mores had the same reputation everywhere? "and I know him because he's the gnome. The limpet. Who even texted me when he found the 'bad guys'." I sighed as I passed Peter my phone so he could read the text I received moments before. I don't think Morgan realised we were here since the text said he had found a bad guy hangout and was going to crush them.

I have no idea how that idea even crossed his mind without a team to back him up.

Peter sighed as he read the text and put my phone in his pocket.

"I'll keep this for now. Use mine to call Jones and Diana." I gave him a confused look and he pointed across at the building.

In the time that we had been talking, Morgan had been surrounded by six men with guns.

"Is being kidnapped his hobby or something?" I questioned in disbelief, ignoring the snort which came from Peter.

So, Neal's been kidnapped a few times. Occupational hazard. And I certainly don't go around looking to be kidnapped. I also have a good team, Peter's team, to back me up.

Peter pulled out his gun and slung on his harness, heading towards the back of the van.

"I have an idea," I said. It wasn't the best idea but it was probably better than whatever Peter had planned.

"I'm not sending you in there," Peter responded, "it's too dangerous."

I crossed my arms and glared. The FBI alone had sent me into more dangerous scenarios than this. Plus, I knew just the thing to tip the scales in favour of my plan.

Peter was sceptical and hesitant but I managed to get him to relent. He had to admit, a single person going in to distract them while the forces mobilized was a better option than a lone FBI agent walking in while armed.

I climbed out of the van, walked across to the building.

"Hey! Bearded Gnome! I got your message to meet you here?" I called out as if we had planned to meet up here.

It didn't take long for the group to surround me as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading, following, choosing to favorite, leaving kudos, and commenting/reviewing :D


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

WCWCKEJAEWCWC

Sitting in the van, I decided to see what other information I could get out of Neal. Perhaps these people could give me an insight into what was going on with him?

Picking up the conversation, I started with the big question. "Why are you trying to avoid them?"

His answer was rather cryptic. "Because the big guy doesn't like me either, my old school friend is the leader, and his wife is my ex-girlfriend which makes things very awkward."

That seemed like logical reasons to be stressed over meeting them again, but I still had questions. "You don't want to see your old friend?"

He was emphatic this time. "No, I _do_ want to talk to him, but I can't. Some things happened in the past causing us to go in separate directions and, for reasons that I can't discuss, it's best I remain out of the picture."

It wasn't much to go by, but it gave me a little bit more to work with. Apparently, I am not his only close friend, but I _am_ the one he can talk to. That put a new weight on my shoulders. If he couldn't talk to me as a friend that he could trust… who could he talk to?

Since he wouldn't share anything more on that topic, I decided to watch him for a while. My curious glances were obviously annoying him but, as he wouldn't talk, I wanted to observe him for myself.

Eventually Neal opened up and shared a little information on the man he kept muttering about. It would seem that he could empathize my pain with Mozzie… but why did he still feel the need to torture me with the man's presence?

WCWCWCWC

When things turned South, I really didn't like Neal's plan, but as I didn't have a better one, it was my only option.

While Neal went in to distract the 'bad guys,' I moved around to give him cover in an effort to keep the two men alive until backup could arrive. As I circled the building to come in from a different angle, I found a great position. It gave me a vantage point for watching the situation that was unfortunately escalating.

Instead of protecting the little guy, Neal had joined him in trouble. The two men were surrounded with several guns pointed at their heads.

As I wracked my brains to try and come up with a plan, Neal surprised me by handling the situation.

"Have you ever done this with Chuck?" He asked the little man.

When the little man grinned and bobbed his head, Neal squared his shoulders and changed his entire attitude. He wasn't the charming con man who would talk their way out of the situation, he was someone else.

His strategy seemed to be an effort to come off as someone dangerous, someone they didn't want to kill because he was too valuable. It worked… for a few minutes. Then they decided it was too much of a risk to have new guys moving in on their plans so the leader ordered them to be killed as he entered the room.

To my horror, the six guys lifted their guns to fire as four more stepped into my line of sight.

Before I could move, think, or even breathe, Neal moved into action.

Ducking the first bullets, Neal kicked his foot out to take one man down before striking out in the other direction with his arm and knocking another man out. As he continued to fight, Neal moved the little man to keep him behind him so that the guy had his back, but Neal was able to keep him protected.

Despite my reservations about simply watching Neal take ten men on in mortal combat, I couldn't help but do just that. It was amazing to watch Neal as he flipped, jumped, ducked, swung, and everything else he needed to do to keep ahead of the bullets and flying limbs of his opponents. In addition to that, he also had another person behind him he had to protect.

So much for the 'I can't fight' junk Neal had been feeding me since the beginning… As the fight wound down, I decided to pull the little man's number off of Neal's phone to do some investigating later. Apparently, Neal was more than he claimed in more ways than his secret tendency to help people.

When I finally felt I could take a breath of relief, the worst part of the situation happened. The leader pulled a gun and fired a bullet. A bullet straight into Neal's chest.

WCWCQUINISWCWC

The impact was sudden. I had been looking as the leader fired but I hadn't been thinking. My body didn't move as something tiny punched into my chest.

"Neal!" Oh, good. Morgan remembered to call me by my name.

I only closed my eyes for a moment. There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh above me and the thumping of a body in front of me. I opened my eyes to see an angry Morgan Grimes.

Sitting up, I could see the leader on the ground.

"You punched him?" I questioned, recalling how painful Morgan's punches could be. After all, my face was still sporting an almost raccoon-like appearance due to bruising.

"Of course," Morgan huffed, angry at the man. He then jumped like a startled cat as the FBI came running into the building.

"Neal!" Peter cried out in a worried tone.

I gave him a wide grin. It was partly to convince him that I was okay. The hole in my shirt would tell Peter part of the story.

"I see Jones and Diana made it in time," I commented.

Morgan was staring starry-eyed at the FBI agents. Peter ignored him as he checked me over.

"Are you okay? How did you survive that shot?"

"What?" Had Peter seen that? How much? I didn't want to have to explain how I could fight to Peter. I didn't even think I could come up with a reasonable explanation for some of the moves I pulled off.

Peter gave me the 'no-nonsense' look. I guess he did see more than I wanted. At least it seemed like he wasn't going to interrogate me on it right now.

"I'm fine, Peter," I said.

"How are you okay? You were shot." Peter, master of the obvious.

I chuckled and pulled a little at my shirt. Just enough to reveal the dark item I was wearing underneath. "Funny story. Most people can't tell there's something under a suit when the cut has been adjusted specifically to hide it. Byron was a clever man."

"Byron has suits created just for hiding bullet-proof vests underneath?" Peter sounded sceptical. It was ironic as I hadn't lied. Byron was a clever man and he had adjusted these suits.

"Just ask June."

Peter seemed to accept that. For now. I didn't know whether to be relieved or worried about the future.

"Should we go save Jones?" Peter asked me. Morgan had decided to chat up the FBI agents while I was occupied with Peter. Currently, Jones looked pained while Morgan asked question after question.

"Maybe," I mused. I didn't want Morgan saying anything unnecessary but I didn't want to appear too eager to shut him up.

"Hey, Neal!" Morgan called out with a wave at me. Did he sense me looking at him or something? "Jones has a large screen TV and a PlayStation! Wanna game?"

The FBI agents were good at pretending they weren't listening. Most of them continued with their work but I noticed the way they tensed and a number of them were glancing over at me.

"Not really. No."

"I know it's not Zork but I'm sure we can find something you can play." Morgan sounded way too happy about this.

"Have you even asked Jones if it's okay to use his TV?" I asked.

"It's fine with me," Jones responded with a shrug. He sounded nonchalant however, the grin on his face said he was looking forward to this.

"Morgan, aren't you supposed to be leaving soon?"

Morgan gave me a blank look.

"Isn't someone coming to take you back to Burbank?" If it helped, I'd buy him a plane ticket.

Something clicked in Morgan's mind. "Oh, right! Chuck's coming but he won't be taking me home."

"What?" I didn't care that my tone was rude. I was tired.

"He's going to stay for a while and visit you!" Morgan's innocent grin didn't seem so innocent anymore. It looked calculated.

"Who's Chuck?" Jones asked.

"My best friend," Morgan responded, with emphasis on 'my'.

"He's just a guy," I responded with a shrug. "He married my ex-girlfriend."

"Your ex?" Peter questioned. "Not Kate."

"Not Kate," I pointed out. It was obvious that it wasn't Kate. "Sarah's someone I knew during the time we were apart."

"Sarah was your rebound girl?" Morgan's face lit up like it was Christmas and this was his present.

"Sara?" Peter questioned. I could see Jones grinning and Diana snickering with a few other agents.

"Yeah." What was wrong with the name Sa- It hit me then.

WCWCKEJAEWCWC

Gasping in shock and horror, I watched as Neal flew back to lie sprawled on the ground. In my peripheral I could see the other guy take the leader down, but my focus was on watching Neal for a sign of life.

With the distance too great to see, I hurried for the nearest entrance where I encountered my team. Giving them a hurried update as to what had transpired, I left out Neal's fighting, but mentioned that the other guy was his friend and that he himself had been shot in the chest.

Paling in concern, the team reflected something of my fears as we moved to tactical positions for making entry. Once we were ready, I counted to three and we busted into the place.

Rushing to Neal's side, I was relieved to see him setting up and grinning, but I still wanted to reassure myself that he was alright. How had he survived that? Asking him the question out loud, part of me was curious as to what his answer would be.

"What?" He seemed to be rather surprised that I knew anything about what had transpired. Did he seriously think I would let my partner walk into a situation, where he was outnumbered three-to-one, unarmed, and not try to cover his back? Not taking any of his cover stories, I wanted real answers, even if I had to wait until we could converse alone.

Since he still hadn't answered my question, I asked him again how he had survived a heart shot. Then he pulled at his shirt enough so I could see the dark and familiar surface of a bulletproof vest. I was skeptical of his story, why would Byron have worn bulletproof vests? But I was just too relieved that he was okay to push for answers beyond that.

Changing the subject, I diverted Neal's attention to his unwanted guest. The little man seemed to have an infatuation with agents and was staring starry-eyed at Jones while asking a thousand questions about what it was like to be in the FBI. "Have you ever had to shoot anyone?" Why would someone want to know something like that?

Neal seemed reluctant to be the center of the man's attention, so he was almost willing to leave Jones to his fate, but something seemed to make him want to get rid of the man too. Sensing that this bearded gnome held the key to so many of my questions, I kind of hoped for a chance to talk to him, despite how annoying he seemed.

Fortunately, I was lucky enough to witness the guy conversing across the room with Neal. Listening, there were hints into even more secrets. For instance, I hadn't pictured Neal as someone who would play video games or engage in such nerdy activities as Zork. Although I wasn't much of a gamer myself, I was around in the era when that was so popular. Then I was surprised to learn that Neal had had another love interest I wasn't previously aware of, and was it a coincidence her name was also Sara?

The best part was learning that this guy and his friend 'Chuck' were going to be hanging around. If Neal didn't let me talk to them with him around, then maybe I could find another way to learn about them? After all, I did have the little guy's phone number to research.

Having gathered my information, I enjoyed watching Neal. His reactions were very revealing as his guard seemed to be dropping the longer the little guy was in the room.

At first he didn't even understand the similarity between this other Sara's name and Sara Ellis. Getting a kick out of it, several of the team were snickering or grinning while they waited for it to dawn on him, but when it did Neal looked rather surprised himself. I wondered what was passing through his mind, as I didn't have enough foundation with this Neal to even guess, but my contemplation was interrupted.

"Morgan?" A group of people entered the building from the far end.

Moving to hold them off, some of the team tried to tell them this was a crime scene, but Neal told them to let the group through. "They're alright. Meet Chuck and his team that we have been talking about."

Glancing at Morgan, he then addressed the visitors. "Morgan told you about me, so meet the White Collar Division."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting/reviewing :D


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

WCWCQUINISWCWC

I told myself that Chuck and his team were much better at hiding things than Morgan was. Even though they employed Morgan, he was the most inexperienced.

Or so I thought. It seemed the team still held some animosity towards me because Casey placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

"So, new team, huh Larkin?"

The confused looks sent my way made my stomach churn. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Inside I cursed Casey. Seriously, it was bad enough that he had shot me once but to blow my cover?

"Stop teasing Neal," Chuck said. "Or we'll tell Alex that you were rude to the people who took good care of her boyfriend. She won't like that."

"Alex?" Peter questioned out loud. I held his gaze as I shrugged. I had no idea who she was.

"Casey's daughter," Sarah explained. She pointed to Casey to serve as an introduction. "And I'm Sarah. It's lovely to meet you all." She stepped back and motioned to Chuck. "This is my husband, Chuck Bartowski."

"Chuck, huh?" Jones questioned, shaking his hand.

"Dad named me Charles but he's the only one who used it."

"Even his mother calls him Chuck," Morgan said.

That sounded off to me. Sure, Morgan had been a friend of the family for a long time but, it had been a long time since Frost went AWOL. Surely his memory wasn't so good as to remember a quirk from years ago?

Chuck held my gaze and mouthed 'I'll explain later'. Could that mean they had found her? I was surprised but also should have expected it.

"Nice to meet you," Peter said to Sarah. "You dated Neal?"

"Peter!" I scolded automatically. This was one thing I didn't need dredged up.

Sarah winced. "That's over and done with." I agreed.

"And what about you?" Peter asked Casey.

"I prefer the company of guns."

"I'm just glad he left off the 'to you'," Chuck whispered to me. "He doesn't really like the FBI."

"He doesn't really like me," I whispered back.

"What are we whispering about?" Morgan asked, pushing between us.

"Casey and how he hates everyone," Chuck said.

Morgan stroked his stubble. "I see. You should give him benefit of the doubt. He's really more complex than he seems."

Chuck pet Morgan on the head and then turned to Sarah. "So, what's on our agenda?"

"See how much access we can get to this case and see if any information triggers a 'flash' of inspiration," Sarah said. I caught the emphasis on 'flash' and smiled. So Chuck still had the Intersect. Somehow, that made everything I went through feel worth it. More than seeing Chuck as a spy and with his own team. I guess because it means I helped in some way; am still helping, even though my presence faded from their lives.

"You're being morose," Chuck said, slinging an arm around me.

Eyes turned to us, mostly because Chuck's adjective didn't really fit with the smiling conman who was standing there. I was even smiling as I shrugged Chuck's arm off me.

"I have no idea what you mean. I am nervous that you all are meeting but that's mostly because I don't trust Casey to not shoot something."

Casey made an agreeing expression and said, "true." He had started talking guns with Diana, who was very interested in hearing how a Remington 700 handles.

Morgan had drifted over to some of the other agents and was asking them about what they were doing and absorbing the information on how they handled crime scenes and the arrested criminals.

I noted that Chuck was hanging close to me while Sarah was talking to Peter about how much information they could get about this without having to show their badges. Yeah, Peter was having none of that.

"I think you would have had more luck if you hadn't associated yourselves with me," I whispered to Chuck.

"Not happening. I know your cover is a conman but it would have come out sooner or later. Better sooner than later," Chuck said. "This way we can build a positive relationship with Peter's White Collar team from the beginning."

I gave him the same look I gave him when I learnt that he had a thing for Sarah. It was an ideal which went against everything a spy was taught. But it was also very Chuck and I had learnt to hold my tongue. If even half the stuff I heard about him had happened, it was possible he was right.

WCWCKEJAEWCWC

The new team made their way across the room garnering a lot of attention. They were associated with Neal's history, and no one had heard of them before.

Since Neal's friends usually had criminal associations, I sized them up as they moved closer to me.

Their leader was a mousey looking guy with a bright smile and curly hair. He seemed happy to see his friends and even the FBI wasn't going to deter him. Beside him walked a blonde bombshell that reminded me of Diana. She was strong, confident, and wasn't intimidated by a room full of FBI agents. Walking slightly behind with a glare thrown at Neal, was a large military looking man. He seemed bored by the FBI, but there was something angry directed at Neal.

Although there wasn't much said by this new team at first, there seemed to be a wealth of information exchanged. The big guy, Casey, called Neal Larkin while giving his shoulder what looked like a threatening squeeze. That wasn't a name I had ever heard associated with my friend so it went onto the mental list to research. This man's antagonism was also more disconcerting. Where Morgan seemed like a spiteful puppy, this was a growling Pit Bull.

Neal looked very uncomfortable with the encounter, but his face soon smoothed over after Chuck stepped in.

Like the name Sara, Alex brought up images of a recognized person in a new light, until we were informed it was a different woman. Although these similarities were likely coincidental considering the popularity of the names, it still made a tingle run down my spine that not all was right here.

There wasn't a sense of danger so much as a deep and broad mystery.

Standing to the side of the conversation, I was mulling over the names, behavior, and expressions of those around me while trying to gain some understanding.

When Chuck said Neal was being morose, I put a heavier focus on my consultant. There was a smile plastered on his face, but I know how to read him. He did look morose, like all of his greatest secrets were about to come crashing down around him. Perhaps they were, but wouldn't that be a good thing?

Sarah pulled me into more direct conversation forcing me away from my speculations. Although she was brilliant in her strategy, I had learned from Neal, and I wasn't giving information away that easily.

"No, I'm going to share information on an open investigation until you tell me why you need to know." My shoulders were square, my voice projected authority, and I had official procedure at my back. You would think that was enough to dissuade Sarah from her efforts to garner information from me.

"We are only following up on what happened to our friend. He was abducted from California, left here, and traced these men to this location. Who are they?" She loosened up her body language to come off as innocent and curious. Her eyes were open, her lips pouted, and her lashes fluttered at times.

"I'm married, and used to Neal pulling manipulative means of getting me to tell him details. Your actions are a feminine version of the same games he plays." I stated while directing my left hand towards Neal with my thumb pointing at my wedding band. Subtle maneuvers were a part of the job, so I could play the game too.

She seemed something between amused and frustrated as her lip quirked up while her brows settled lower. Sarah knew I wasn't going to be an easy mark.

Before the situation could go further, Neal sighed and approached with Chuck and Morgan in tow. "If the team has the scene handled here, we can retire to Junes. It's more private to talk."

There was resignation in his voice that caused Sarah to turn a critical glare at him. Was that because she was insulted he had insinuated that she couldn't break me, or that he was creating an opportunity to talk away from the FBI at large?

Stepping away from the group for a few moments, I gave orders to Jones and Diana before handing over the scene to the team. Behind me, I could hear furious whispers as Neal was surrounded by Chuck and his team.

Once I was done, I reconvened with the others and walked outside.

Spotting the vehicle the others had arrived in, I noticed a nondescript black van. It had room to fit several adults, their luggage, and also reminded me of government-issued vans with the tinted windows simplicity. It blended into general traffic, but was screened in privacy making it hard to determine what they might have inside.

Collaring Neal to ride with me, I ensure he wouldn't slip away to prepare a story with these strangers. Whatever was going to be said, I wanted it to be the truth.

Riding the familiar streets, I opened the conversation with my first question. "Getting shot is usually quite the painful kick. How are you feeling?"

WCWCQUINISWCWC

I answered Peter's question the same way I answered almost all inquiries into my personal health.

"I'm fine."

Peter nodded like that was enough. Normally, it wouldn't have been. He wasn't asking any questions about the comradery between me and Chuck or about Chuck's team.

"Neal, if you're hurt, you need to tell me so we can get you some help," Peter said.

"Peter, I'm fine, I swear."

Peter eyed me suspiciously. I stared innocently back. After all, I wasn't lying. Except for being a little sore, I was perfectly fine.

"I know it's not the first time you've faced a gun but you handle it just as well as any trained agent," Peter mused as he drove. I told myself to be flattered about it. "Even trained agents need to keep their skills sharp and their mind sharper. Keeping things to yourself only hinders that."

Was Peter hinting that he knew I was trained? Or was he taking stabs in the dark, hoping to get some information from my reactions.

"Some things are better kept to oneself," I responded. "It's easier if only the one involved knows."

Peter ran his fingers along the steering wheel. "I've never agreed with that philosophy and you know it. I tell El everything I'm allowed and the agents in my team get to know everything else. I'm always accountable for my actions and the actions of those around me."

I didn't know how to respond to that. There was nothing I could say. We both saw differently on that point and we knew it, had accepted it long ago.

A couple of streets passed before Peter sighed, deflating a little.

"Let me know if you can defend yourself. Maybe save me some worry about your safety."

"You'd worry anyway," I said automatically.

Peter chuckled. "Probably. But have you had some training?"

"Some," I answered.

Peter seemed content to leave it at that for now. He stopped outside June's and frowned. I waited. If Peter still had a question to ask, then I figured I could at least hear the question.

"This group, you trust them?" he asked.

"With my life," I responded. "Except Casey. You can trust that guy with America but not me." I could see that my answer confused Peter. Was Casey trustworthy or not? "Honestly, I trust Chuck. And Chuck runs the team. They're fine."

Peter took my word for it. Or at least had a plan for when things went wrong since he followed me up to my apartment.

I had the fleeting thought that maybe he was making sure I had some backup when I went into this unknown scenario but it wasn't something my self-worth would let me think about for more than a moment.

Inside my apartment, there was only one person.

"Chuck?" I questioned. The nerd herder in question grinned and waved from next to my canvas. "Where's everyone else?"

"They went to the FBI building ahead of us," he said. "I figured a little privacy would be required for pulling Mr. FBI-agent over there over to our side."

I saw Peter raise an eyebrow at that phrasing.

"And Mozzie?" I asked.

Chuck winced. It was an expression I had never seen him make outside of learning about a new test or something at Stanford.

"He went with them."

"Mozzie?" Peter questioned. I was a little shocked too. "He willingly went to the FBI?"

"He and Morgan were talking about some kind of technology suppression surrounding technologies which would allow us to move beyond the computer and connect brains together or something like that." Chuck sighed. "My head hurts just thinking about it."

"If such a technology exists, it better be suppressed. It sounds dangerous," I said. It didn't take a genius to see the connection between replacing computers with the human brain and the Intersect.

Peter stared at me for that one. I guess I never really disagreed with anything Mozzie said out loud before. He must have decided not to comment on it because his next question was, "how did you two meet?"

"Oh boy," I muttered. Once Peter knew that, there was no going back. "We were college roommates." He would find my name because Chuck only had one roommate at Stanford. Plus, thanks to that rumour Chuck's ex started, everyone knew it had been Bryce and Chuck as roommates.

"College roommates?" Peter questioned. He looked to Chuck. "Where?"

"Stanford," Chuck responded innocently.

"Yeah, so Peter, I may have gone to college and Neal Caffrey might not be my real name," I said, running a hand through my hair. "And I'm not really able to tell you my real name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading, leaving kudos, choosing to favorite, and commenting/reviewing :D  
> Alrighty, you all know the drill. Next week I'll post the last chapter of this story so I need to know which story you would like to see next. Check out my profile page for the link to the list of completed stories on my fanfiction profile and either review/comment or PM me your vote (depending on which site you use) :D


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

WCWCKEJAEWCWC

Neal and Chuck only gave me the basics of their history together with a few specifics such as their university and Chuck's name. Piecing it all together into something more was going to be up to me.

Learning Neal had been presumed dead to the team explained the surprise and almost hostile reactions, but it only proved to worry me more. If Neal had been injured so badly, what was this history with these people he was so keen to hide?

It didn't take long for us to run out of viable conversation topics with them being so secretive, so I suggested we reconvene with our teams in the office.

Changing the location to the car, Chuck managed to change the conversation topic to New York City at large. Allowing it, I figured I would make do with what I had already gathered and see how much of the story I could find on my own.

Reaching the office, I left Neal at his desk where Mozzie was quick to claim a familiar face. Chuck walked with me to Hughes' office, but my boss insisted on handling the situation alone which freed me to my own research.

Settling in behind my desk, I started up my computer while jotting some notes on a sheet of paper to remember what points I was researching: Larkin, Stanford University, Charles Bartowski, Burbank, seeing how the names of his teammates connected, and hopefully unlocking the big secret of what bound them together.

When my system was humming, I keyed Chuck's name into the government employee database. Immediately getting a hit, I found most of it blacked out with allusions to heroics and extremely classified data.

Intrigued, I put the names and descriptions of his teammates through with a few additions from his file to get a Colonel John Casey of the NSA, Sarah Walker Bartowski of the CIA, and Morgan Grimes, a trainee of the NSA. Like Chuck's, the files were mostly blocked but alluded to high profile work. This wasn't a group of criminals, or even just some agents, these were Washington elite level agents.

Glancing down at Neal, I wondered how this tied into him. He'd been showing a hidden side of community service recently, but could that go so deep as this was hinting? Did he work for the government before I accepted his deal with me?

Feeling even more curious, I looked for the name Larkin at Stanford in conjuncture with Bartowski's time there. Bryce Larkin, a 4.0 student in accounting and computer engineering who excelled at track. It was like discovering he had another life. Here, Neal was normal living in a fraternity, going to classes, hanging out with his best friend, and training in sports for team competitions.

Drawn deeper into the web, I quickly worked backward to find records of a kid growing up in Connecticut. Everything seemed normal there too. Bryce was raised with a younger sister by two loving parents, he had a nerdy interest in comics and video games, enjoyed being outside and active, and a few incident reports at his school noted him for getting into a little trouble for standing up to bullies on the playground. What had happened?

Redirecting my search, I put Bryce Larkin into the government employee database just to see what would turn up. I'm not sure if I was surprised or not, but I was glued to my computer as I read between the blacked out words. The files were full of tales equally heroic and legendary as his counterparts. Neal was one of them.

When I finished scouring what records I could find, I decided to randomly put Mozzie's description into the database. He was a close friend of Neal's and the presence of these other agents had actually drawn him into our offices. There were a lot of results, but one had a redacted image and limited descriptions about a deep cover operation in the criminal underground. It could be Mozzie, but there was no way to prove it.

Even though I was probably reaching, I chose to put June into the database. Everyone else seemed to be getting hits, so why not check her out? Nothing came up. Laughing to myself, I was glad at least something worked like expected. Then a hit came up. She wasn't a direct government employee, but she was connected through some umbrella agency. There was enough data to acknowledge her existence, but nothing overly filled in.

WCWCQUINISWCWC

I shifted nervously next to Chuck. This felt a little like being called to the principal's office. Hughes was staring at me, barely blinking as Sarah explained the situation. Hughes' clearance was high enough for him to be told about my identity as Bryce Larkin and how I was CIA.

"You're a spy?" Hughes asked me. It was the first thing he had said directly to me.

"Yessir," I responded quickly, mouth stumbling a little over the double 's'. I clasped my hands tighter together since they were out of sight behind my back. The pressure was grounding and kept me from saying unnecessary things.

"I guess this isn't the strangest thing to happen in this office since you've arrived, Caffrey," Hughes commented to my confusion.

Not the strangest? What was the strangest then? Was it the party with the models and our attempt to lure out 'the Ghost'? Or was it the one with the stolen healing Bible?

"That's probably true," I mused. I was curious what Hughes thought was the strangest though. Was it Mozzie being in the FBI office? Peter would probably rank that pretty high up.

Sarah still had things to say. She assured Hughes that my work as Bryce wouldn't affect my contract with the FBI and that I fully intended to serve out the remainder of my time.

"Yay," I muttered under my breath. Because, as great as working with the team was, I didn't really want to serve out all four years. That hadn't really been the plan when I signed the contract.

Hughes looked at me for a moment and I smiled back.

"Caffrey, you better not get Burke hurt because of this spook business," he warned. "Otherwise, I'll be calling the NSA. There are a couple of people who still owe me favors."

I glanced over at Casey. "Are you someone who owes Hughes a favor, Casey?"

"No. Comment," Casey growled out. Hughes didn't react either. Now I would be forever questioning whether Hughes was able to get Casey to take me out.

"You don't make a good dinner companion, Larkin. You're not as pretty as you think you are," Casey growled out.

It seems I said that out loud. Still, he didn't have to say that.

"You don't have to laugh," I said to Chuck, who was still grinning.

"Yes, I do. Casey made a joke."

"I always make jokes. You all just don't understand them."

"Threatening to shoot someone isn't a joke," I countered.

"Speaking of," Hughes started. He then said that I wasn't allowed a gun, which was perfectly fine by me.

Ten minutes later and we were dismissed. I breathed a sigh of relief as we left the office, no punishments or paperwork sent my way. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chuck smile at me.

"What?"

"You like it here. At the FBI."

"Yeah, so?" I wasn't trying to hide it. After Stanford, it was difficult to show when I liked things. After all, I wasn't the best person. I'm still not.

"It's good for you." Chuck didn't bother to say any more than that. At least Sarah told me they were heading back to my apartment for the afternoon.

My desk had papers piled up, waiting for me to read and sign. Inside the glass fishbowl that was Peter's office, I could see him at his computer.

"He hasn't moved since you guys got back," Jones said when he spotted me looking up. "He must be researching something."

Peter's face didn't have the serious expression it usually did when he was looking up information for a case. So what could he be looking at then? I watched him the whole afternoon and also hacked into his internet history.

My heart stopped for an instant when I saw my name. My history. And Chuck's too. It seemed Peter had managed to use the little information we had given him to uncover almost everything.

He even searched Mozzie and June!

I glanced back up at the agent in the glass office. Peter was skilled, even by CIA standards, and I was lucky to get a chance to work with him.

"Come on Caffrey," Diana called from across the room. "I need you to process my case so I can close it! Jones already did his part!"

Jones grinned at me. I huffed but go on with it.

At 5:00pm, the door to Peter's office opened and he walked down. It was time to go home.

WCWCKEJAEWCWC

I spent nearly my entire afternoon collecting everything I could on Neal… or Bryce to use his real name. Each detail answered questions and created new ones.

Once I'd run through as much as I could find and read around the blacked out pieces until my eyes crossed, I sat back in my chair to contemplate what I'd found.

A glance towards Neal showed him studiously observing his computer as seriously as I had been. Perhaps he'd hacked my computer and was following my activities, he could be intrigued by a case, or more likely he was pretending to be busy to avoid explaining the day's happenings…

These people from his past had caught up causing his biggest secret to be revealed. I had no doubt Hughes had been made aware more officially through their meeting next door in addition to my own discoveries. It was a long to handle for a day so I couldn't blame him if he was trying to avoid any more confrontations.

Twisting my pen between my hands, I fidgeted with it while I thought. However, observing my friend wasn't bringing me any closer to dealing with the reveals myself.

Approaching it analytically, I decided to weigh the pros against the cons.

First, the cons. Neal was an undercover agent who held an important status in the black ops world. That meant danger followed him with potential threats worse than Keller. Being an agent, his assignment could end up forcing him to leave and there wouldn't be a guarantee we'd ever see or hear from him again. Worst of all, his records proved he had been allegedly killed multiple times in addition to various other injuries ranging from minor scrapes to torture.

Shuddering, I happily shifted to the pros. Neal was an agent. He worked in a different field of government, but he wasn't technically a criminal so I wouldn't have to worry so much about his activities. In addition, he had training in combat and weapons so he could take of himself in most dangerous situations reducing another huge area of concern. But best of all, this meant I was wrong.

He was a con and a man.

Neal was a con. Everyone believed Neal Caffrey was his real name, no one forgot his criminal history or his need to learn how to play by the rules, and the potential bleak future of a prison cell wasn't just a joke. Until today, I had believed the lies just as surely as everyone else still did.

Bryce was the man. He'd given his life to prevent horrible things from happening, he'd risked it all to do the right thing, and he went behind my back to protect others while working to keep it secret to protect his cover.

Smiling, I realized I was more proud of him for his secrets than I had been before. Neal Caffrey was a con worth knowing, and Bryce Larkin was a man worth the risk.

WCWCWCWC

When it was time to leave, I approached Neal's desk as usual and asked if he was ready to go yet.

Asking for a few moments, he began shutting his programs down. "It's not often you're actually ready to go at five."

I easily commented about the day not being normal and his hand missed a step so he hit the commands on his keyboard again to complete the process.

Trying to hide the tremor in his hands while he shuffled his remaining paperwork away, he teased. "I think that's a good thing." He was afraid of my reaction.

Waiting, I let him finish his routine and put on his things. Then when he moved to stand beside me, I surprised him by patting him on the shoulder before leading him out with my hand resting on his opposing shoulder.

We didn't talk much on the drive home. I offered dinner as an escape from his house guests, but he asked for a rain check as Chuck had some things to talk about.

Pulling up at his curb, I locked the doors to prevent his escape before turning towards him. "First, I want to know the important things. If anyone's in danger, if you have to leave, or just if you need to talk even if you can't say everything. Second, if you do have to leave, I want you to remain in contact. Even if you have to do those little postcards from random places around the world, you need to let me know you're okay. Do you understand me, agent Bryce Larkin?"

At first he was surprised and stared back at me, but then he smiled softly with a nod. "Yeah, I understand you."

As he left, I knew we were going to be alright with our friendship stronger for the truth.

WCWCWCWC

When we were going to bed, Elizabeth asked me why I had been quiet all evening.

She couldn't know the whole truth, but the basics would suffice. "Neal's a spy. They're all spies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading, reviewing/commenting, voting, leaving kudos, following, and choosing to favorite :D
> 
> I appreciate everyone who voted! There is three for "Inheritance," one for "Triple Trouble," and two for "Persuassioned." Next up is Inheritance and then Persuassioned will follow as my oldest and longest story. It will be a long while before I take votes again due to the combined length of these stories, but I'll be using that time to build some more stories for you to enjoy later :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading, reviewing/commenting, leaving kudos, following, and choosing to favorite :D


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